Cold outside, it’s hot in here.
Trust is such a fragile porcelain flower, beautiful and intricate. Also immensely breakable. When trust is given, there is a bond built and a feeling of safety ensnares those entwined through this link of trust. In some cases this bond is the only thing keeping our heads above water or keeping us from falling off the cliff into chaos. But in other cases, trust lulls people into a feeling of complacency and when the trust is shattered... they are blindsided and react to the extreme.
People intrigue me. Their style, the way they carry themselves, hair color, piercings, etc... but the greatest thing about a person are their eyes.
What a violent way to end. With my heart in a jar, sitting in a dusty shelf in some weirdo’s office... that is not what happened. And I am very much alive. Truly alive, as some would say... this is not Once Upon a Time (TV show, not for kids—thank you, ABC), where you can just rip someone’s heart out with them still breathing, alive and well. This is not about a jealous step mother seeing her step daughter, and wanting nothing more than her heart, so she could just be done with this narrative. No. My apologies to those who enjoy such stories (I am one of them). I’m speaking in a more figurative fashion. I put my heart in a jar, because it was causing a little too much trouble, and I saw where it was leading... nowhere.
Jem loved to travel, and she also loved to adopt a different persona in each different place she traveled to. She was good at spinning different backstory webs and making both friends and enemies. Either kind was made intentionally and for a specific purpose.